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by Poose



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen, Sex Work, Shame Edward Little Power Hour, Short, poor irving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poose/pseuds/Poose
Summary: Edward and George owe this outing to John before they set sail.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: Fingerbang #2





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [trill_gutterbug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trill_gutterbug/gifts).



The idea had not been his, precisely. 

‘But,’ George looks back and forth between him and Lieutenant Irving, who had placed his hands on his knees, leant forward onto them like he was about to deliver some important message, when it was widely known. This was what was done, amongst the chief officers, before they set sail on a voyage of length. Discovery Service proved the same, Edward had learnt to his chagrin, but he had come to know places where they treated him kindly, and where, in other, louder rooms his messmates might find their ends otherwise, with greater fanfare and additional _accoutrements_. 

Edward preferred simplicity; George wanted plans. Should they take supper before or after? Was there any entertainment that would enliven the evening? Did the other gentlemen wish to partake? 

John looks up at Edward, back across to George. ‘I’m not entirely certain, Lieutenant Hodgson, what you’re asking.’ His delivery is flat, stricken. His mien is accusatory. He knows full well, Edward is certain, what George is asking, and he is as a man betrayed for having been asked in the first place. 

‘Edward, do help a man out,’ George turns back with an exasperated flare of the nostrils, looking for all the world like any of this should have been his responsibility in the first place — and technically, all right, it was on him to organize it, see it carried out — but he hadn’t particularly wished to dwell on it the way George seemed to be after. 

Mortified, Edward suggests they leave it. Perhaps George would not mind to go alone, and he would wait in the music hall, or a tavern, with John? That could be pleasant enough, and once George had returned, charge him with the role of chaperone to John and he might slip away to find a situation most unnatural — yet — yet _welcomed_. 

John’s eyes are round, wide. He looks at Edward like a man betrayed. Edward is not sure why. He might encourage him to visit to Doctor McDonald, whereupon to seek reassurance that his constitution might be, from time to time, thus fortified. It was not in contravention of any law, Edward well knew. They had all been midshipmen, once, and agreed not to discuss what particular abuses they might have heard, coming in for the changing of the watch, one’s nearest neighbour valiantly attempting to finish his business before he was called to his post. 

‘Edward,’ George beckons with an airy smile, ‘Edward, only tell John about your own first voyage as a Third Lieutenant, and I will tell mine in turn, and then he may have the right of it to make sport of us both.’ He looks to John with a demure little smile. 'I will tell you,' he says, and taps the side of his nose, 'that I have never before or since worn the style of bonnet that the last French queen was said to favour.' 

The tip of Edward’s own nose burns with indignity. He clenches his hands. He should never have told George that story, drunk on real ale and the intimacy that came from a dockside visit, together, about how he had been quite terrified, if he would have the right of it. Afraid he would be set to, robbed, his throat cut and left for dead all for the scant coin in his purse, and when the lady of the place had presented him with a menu he had pointed without taking into account the small type and when the lady in question had, once they were given as much privacy as they were likely to get, beckoned him, Edward had realized to his acute horror, that he had requested entirely the wrong opening, and had neither the fortitude nor the forthrightness to rectify his honest mistake. 


End file.
